


Left Hand of the McCall Pack

by allyouneedissleep



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: BAMF Stiles, Hunters, It's legit just Badass Stiles, Kidnapping, M/M, Mates, McCall Pack, Not really much relationship stuff, Sorry guys, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-29
Updated: 2019-09-29
Packaged: 2020-11-07 13:34:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20818109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allyouneedissleep/pseuds/allyouneedissleep
Summary: The first thing Stiles notices as he comes to is that he has a pounding headache searing behind his left eye. He then blames how slow he is on the uptake on the pain radiating from his skull. It’s his second thought that is a lot more concerning: he’s captured. Simply put, someone gave Stiles the slip and now he has his hands bound to a wooden chair.





	Left Hand of the McCall Pack

The first thing Stiles notices as he comes to is that he has a pounding headache searing behind his left eye. He then blames how slow he is on the uptake on the pain radiating from his skull. It’s his second thought that is a lot more concerning: he’s captured. Simply put, someone gave Stiles the slip and now he has his hands bound to a wooden chair. He has yet to open his eyes just in case there are other people in the room so he can’t yet deduce just how screwed he is. Attempting to put his headache aside and keep his breathing even, he begins to focus on his surroundings; using his sense of sound to see if anything is the least bit familiar. 

Keeping his head hung low in front of his body, Stiles tries to stretch his hearing as far as it will go. When he sits and truly focuses he can begin to piece together the severity of the predicament he’s in, but he knows he must be quick because dealing with werewolves is never cut and dry. There is someone pacing about 30 feet away and based off the heavy footing he can assume it’s a man who is murmuring quickly with no response, probably on the phone then. A steady drip drip drip is happening to Stiles’ right, meaning that he’s more than likely in a basement of sorts and it’s doubtful that the building is lived in. If he holds his breath and concentrates he can hear a car or two driving by, meaning he isn’t in the middle of nowhere, but going fast enough to indicate a highway. 

Suddenly he hears two more sets of footsteps approaching and knows that his gig is up and with that he quickly takes in the room he’s in before the door opens. He notes that there is a small window up and to the left slightly behind him but it’s too small to fit through. The window is shut, which explains why he couldn’t feel a breeze. On his right he spots the drip falling into an overflowing bucket that is doing absolutely nothing to control the leak. Behind his back is a wall with a rope hanging from it, but it’s frayed and clearly hasn’t been used in a while. Just as he’s looking straight forward again the door 20 feet away opens and two men are walking in, leaving one man still in the hallway. Before they shut the door Stiles can just make out a dim light and a wide walkway, the ground indicating that he isn’t in a basement of sorts but some sort of warehouse. 

“Oh good, you’re awake” a man speaks. He’s just under 6 foot, built on the more slender side but clearly knows his way around a gym, and has a nasty looking scar running under his left eye. Stiles can tell he’s instantly a threat but is a little too sure of himself which could work against him if this turns ugly. Stiles is just turning to eye up the other guy, when the first one’s voice speaks up again and pulls his attention away.

“So I’m sure you’re wondering why you’re here so we’re just gonna give ya the rundown now. You’re bait. We’re aiming to take out the McCall pack’s Left Hand so we can get to the Alpha. Not only are you the best friend to McCall himself but clearly you’re mated to Derek, and well, why not use you to get to him?”

“Wait are you guys serious? Derek’s not the McCall pack Left Hand,” Stiles replies.

“Yeah he is.”

“Uh, no. He’s really not,” Stiles laughs. 

“You can’t be serious. We’ve done our research. Right hands and left hands are mated about 90% of the time because they keep each other sane and level headed so the left hand doesn’t get pushed out of the pack for not being afraid of doing all the dirty work. As mentioned before, Derek and yourself are mated and clearly the only two in the pack. Are you denying this?”

“No. I’m not denying Derek is my mate,” Stiles raises an eyebrow.

“And are you denying that left hands and right hands are usually mated?” the second guy finally speaks up. Stiles takes his turn eyeing him up. He’s smaller in stature than the man, but he’s steady on his feet and built like a brick house. His biceps alone look like they could suffocate someone, but strong men generally rely on this and forget about using speed work. ‘Good,’ Stiles thinks, ‘this can work in my favor’.

“No. Of course not,” Stiles cannot believe how idiotic these two men are.

“Ergo, Derek is the Left Hand,” number two speaks again.

“Derek is the Right Hand to the McCall pack,” Stiles is getting fed up at this point.

“Wait but that would mean that you’re--” number one looks up in horror. 

And Stiles knows he’s got them. The way they look frightened, and worried about pulling their guns indicates that they’re hunters and still afraid of spilling human blood. He can work with this, he can do a whole hell of a lot with this information.

“The Left? Yeah about that” Stiles begins to say as he rips his hands from the zipties binding him to the chair, before picking it up and slamming it over the first guy’s head. He aims a quick roundhouse kick to number two’s side before slamming his palm up through his nose. He reaches down to grab the chair leg and stab it through the first’s chest and turns back to the second placing his foot at his throat. 

As Stiles places harder pressure on number two’s throat, he can feel him scrabbling for purchase at his ankle. Just as the door slams open and the third guy is finally entering, capturing Stiles brief attention, the second one slams a knife into his ankle. Stiles whips his leg back and ducks back to avoid number three’s swinging arms, while placing a well aimed leg behind his left knee so he goes tripping down. Stiles grabs behind him, picking up the frayed rope and pulling it around him so he can catch number two around the neck before he gets too close. Using both sides of the rope, Stiles crosses them to pull the guy into a chokehold. He keeps the momentum going, and snaps the guys neck.

Right as Stiles hears the satisfying crunch of a snapped neck, the third guy grabs him from behind, arms going around the middle of Stiles’ torso. He tries to pick Stiles up to slam him back down, but Stiles anticipates this and allows himself to be picked up easily so he can keep going up and flip over the guys back catching him around the neck with his thighs. Stiles can hear the guy below him grunting, so he lets up a little to hear what he has to say.

“It wasn’t supposed to be you!” number three spits, “how is it you? You’re just a human, besides the parents of course, you’re the only human in the entire pack. How on Earth are you the Left Hand?”

Taking pity on him, but not moving from around his neck, Stiles begins to talk. “You see there’s a bit more to me than being a weak human. The glory of being human is a tricky little asset called muscle memory. I was possessed and it was a huge dark spot for me for a long time and then one day in a fight, I instinctively stabbed a rogue alpha in the heart. I had no idea I even knew how to do it. I went home freaking out remembering all the dark shit I still blamed myself for. And then I realized I could harness it. That I could truly be more than the weak human everyone thought I was”. 

“So I approached Scott and I said ‘buddy o pal of mine, I can’t get rid of this darkness and I need to use it’. He was so afraid of me, a truly trying time in our relationship, but Peter- Derek’s creepy uncle- told us of a wolf tradition where the left hand is the right’s mate. So Scott made Derek his Right and decided I could take up the honor of being his Left. It was a perfect fit, unconventional sure, but perfect for me. So I suggest you stop underestimating the weak human because he might just be the one to end your life one day.”

The man took this for the threat it was, and began to beg for his mercy, “I didn’t say you were weak! You would be a wonderful hunter, join us and we will all serve you.”

Stiles merely laughed, and flipped himself into a backflip, bringing the guy around and slamming him onto the ground. Stiles jumped back up, twisting to kick the guy in the chest as he began to rise from the ground. “Oh, I’m not gonna kill ya today. I need information and until I get that neither of us are walking out that door,” Stiles places his foot at the guy’s throat and wipes the sweat from his brow.

“Now tell me, how many people are out there waiting for me?” Stiles let his foot up a little to allow the guy to respond.

“No one, our handler was waiting for us to hit the button to call the backup team in,” the goon grunts.

“Okay, and who is your handler,” Stiles puts a little more pressure on the man to get him to sweat before once more letting up.

“I don’t know, we just call him the handler,” the guy swallows, “honest.”

“Okay, then I’ve got a message for you to pass along, and you’ve gotta repeat it back to me. Okay? Nod once if you agree,” Stiles waits for the nod before continuing, “you tell them, that if they so much as touch a single hair on a packmates head that I’m coming for them, every last one and I won’t stop until the whole lot of you are dead. And if for some reason they don’t think that’s a scary enough threat, tell them that there’s a reason I’m the Left Hand of the only remaining True Alpha, and an even larger reason as to why we’re the most powerful pack in all of North America. Now repeat it back,” Stiles laughs.

After the man repeats back the message, Stiles takes his foot off his throat. “Now it’s time for my favorite part, torture.” The man’s face pales and he shakily asks why. “Oh, you didn’t think I was just going to let you go did you?”

Stiles ties the guy up using the frayed rope, and makes quick work of removing him of any weapons he may still have on his person. He rips a line in his shirt, right down the front, and takes the skinniest knife the man had to cut right into the guy’s left cheek. “Do you recognize this?” Stiles asks as he makes a second jagged mark. “Do you recognize my call? The look of a deranged wolf? But really, it’s my call to show everyone that messing with my pack, with my mate, will bring out the feral wolf in me, so stop coming for my family.”

Stiles steps back to admire his handy work, his fake claw marks on the guy’s left cheek. He hums in happiness and then switches to a different knife to make marks all down the guy’s chest and legs. There is so much blood that he’s surprised the guy hasn’t passed out yet. Stiles decides that’s enough and begins to pack up, taking the weapons with him. There’s a nice set of throwing knives that he might have to make some use for. 

Right as he hits the door, he sticks a finger in the air, “oops, almost forgot! Time for you to press the button.” Stiles comes back to the guy, and shoves the wrist watch with the button in his face and tells him to speak into it, “tell them it’s time.”

“Come handler, for it is time,” the man grunts out.

Stiles waves goodbye and darts out the room, down the hallway, and out the back door before anything happens. Just as he’s crossing the highway and recognizing where he is, he can see a line of black SUVs speeding towards the warehouse. Stiles pauses just inside the tree line, and laughs to himself. This will be the last time a hunter tries the Left Hand of the McCall Pack.

**Author's Note:**

> Been working on this since June, and had the idea even longer. Finally finished it up today. Hope y'all like BAMF Stiles as much as I do.


End file.
